A Burned Bridge

As soon as I came home from the emergency room the only thing I could think of was to call Autumn. Daylight was upon the world, people were hustling about heading off to work. Ten million dingbat housewife soccer moms were busy fucking up traffic in their mini-vans; taking their kids to school while playing with their makeup and hair in rear view mirrors stopped dead in front of emerald green lights. They descended upon the city like a plague. I expected Autumn must have been at the office by then. I was so strung out that I could hardly function. With shaking hands I dialed Autumn’s work number from memory. A coworker answered. I asked for Autumn which was followed by a long, hesitant pause. The office employee probably recognized my voice and wanted to ask Autumn sneaky-like if I should be put through. Surprisingly, she took the call. I don’t know why I did it, but I told her I was unable to sleep all week and how I checked in to the hospital because of sharp pains in my chest. Autumn listened as I talked for a minute until I had nothing left to say. Her response was, “I’m sorry.”

Autumn’s voice was cold. The phone call ended immediately afterward. There was no point in calling her again. I should not have bothered in the first place.

What was I expecting? I mean what else could she say? If this was a subconscious attempt on my part to win her sympathy or get her back it was futile. I made up my mind that morning never to speak to Autumn again. This relationship breakup was so avoidable and pointless. Thinking about it made me angry. I would treat Autumn just like my father from this day forward. There would be no phone calls, emails, hand written letters, or messages passed through mutual friends. If at some point she tries to get in touch with me I will ignore Autumn completely. She’s a non-person now. Someone who will be shunned and eventually forgotten like a bad dream.

Something else really hit home from my late night hospital visit. For the first time in my life I knew I had no support from anyone close. My mother was dead, I would never speak to Dad again, and my sister rarely had anything to do with me under any circumstances. If I was suddenly ill with a serious condition there wouldn’t be anyone there for me rely upon. If I got into a brutal accident and died nobody would care. This was a sobering moment. If and when news reached my father that I kicked the bucket he would probably be happy about it. I doubt my younger sister would give a shit. On the other side of the family my Aunt and Uncle would probably be the only people I could count on. They would surely be upset if I met with an untimely demise, but it might be weeks after the fact before anyone contacted them.